Well, to put this simply, (and that's all I'm able to do at the moment without grabbing my hair and running around jumping on couches) I'm having to rip out the yoke. Not the whole yoke but most of it. And I'm a little nutty because of it (and other things that have nothing to do with knitting, family, or my job) but I'm reassuring myself that it's better this way because I will have a wearable garment that I can admire instead of cringing every time my father-in-law wears the thing.
The pattern stinks but I know how to fix it now. The bones of the idea do fit my father-in-law so I know it will be worth it in the end. But if you hear screaming from some remote area, do not be alarmed. Just smile and say, "Ah, she's getting in touch with herself."
I shall return to sanity.
Or as close to sanity as I have ever claimed to be.
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